


The Adventures of Jim

by RedPandaDragon, Toshi_Nama



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-05 03:36:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14608425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedPandaDragon/pseuds/RedPandaDragon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshi_Nama/pseuds/Toshi_Nama
Summary: Jaimessen Aurtur Thominson (More commonly known as Jim) is the messenger who interrupts Cullen and Aizea Lavellan on the battlements.  But...that's not the worst that happens to him.  Through the course of the Inquisition, Jim and his unique brand of failure adds humor and craziness to an already overburdened Inquisition.





	1. Chapter 1

Jaimessen Aurtur Thominson (More commonly known as Jim) awoke with a start. Rapping on his tent wall Threnn shouted “Andraste’s tits Jim, you’re late for a meeting with Ser Emile!”

  
“I’m up? I’m up!” Jim quickly pulled on his over clothes, shivering in the cool mountain air as Threnn pushed the tent flap open.

  
“You need to be there, now.” She said. Grabbing Jim by the hand and pulled him out of the tent. 

He followed her hopping as he fastened his boots and pulled his hood over his head. Has there been breakfast yet?” Jim asked, his stomach audibly asked as well. 

Threnn snorted. “Three hours ago, swing by the kitchen and grab a roll if you think you might die.” She emphasized the word die as if he truly might, to the ridicule of the entire fortress. 

The sun bounced off the fresh snow directly into Jim’s eyes as he attempted to ascend the stairs from the camp to the main fortress of Skyhold. Jim stumbled back, slipped on a patch of ice and found himself sitting on the ground. 

“Maker’s teeth, Jim, this’s no time for games. Emile has to give you and Sister Leliana his report and they’re waiting on you!” Threnn scolded Jim again while offering a hand and pulling him back to his feet. 

Jim already knew it was going to be one of those days. Was it a Tuesday? He thought, not that it mattered. Days for rest were few and far between, and honestly most days he didn’t mind. Jim was greatful that his second cousin twice removed, the honorable and dedicated, Captain Rhylen had recruited him for the job and saved him from being an ewerer (a person who brought and heated water for nobles) at Starkhaven Castle. He longed to become a templar like his favorite cousin, but his family forbade it. He would work for the nobility, like the rest of them and many someday he would be promoted to being a groomsman. Every week he wrote his cousin Rhylen to help ease the burden of his static life. This was a ritual he maintained once he joined the Inquisition. To be honest, even the rough days with the Inquisition were better than the mind numbing business of fetching and heating water every time a bell rang. 

Threnn ushered Jim to the entry hall. “Move!” She snipped. Jim hustled up the stairs of the tower.  

“Fine, don’t say hello!” Dorian called out as Jim leaped passed him and up the next flight of stairs. 

“Emile, your information has been invaluable. Thank you for the report-Jim! How kind of you to join us.” Leliana said coolly.   
  
  
He breathed heavily, her arm was twisted behind her back, gently he applied more pressure. “Come on, we’ve done this a thousand times, you know what to do.” Cullen said between breaths. 

“I... uh...” Aizea Lavellan froze, they’d been training for the better part of an hour and she was finally getting her throws down, this simple maneuver kept giving her pause. She remembered being a young girl and that was the same maneuver the bandits had done to to when they attempted to kidnap her. Never again-Aizea thought to herself and spun around and then wrapped Cullen up in a headlock. 

“Good!” He grabbed her leg and they both fell to the ground reversing the hold and now his arms held both of her arms back and his legs wrapped around her legs immobilizing her from behind. 

“Finally.” Iron Bull said, he’d been helping the Commander with training the Inquisitor to hand to hand. 

“What do I do from here?” Aizea asked, laughing and strained. 

Krem popped into the training room. “Ah, the ol full Krem. Great hold. I invented it you know.” 

“That’s not even remotely possible, Krem.” Cullen said his voice strained pulling Aizea a little farther back. 

“Any suggestions?” Aizea asked, her clothes were drenched in sweat, the room itself was getting damp from the sparring session. 

“You do know you have one leg free, I’d suggest leading with that.” Krem responded. 

Aizea’s eyes widened and she grinned and she hooked her leg around the Commander and rolled on top of him, he still had her neck and arms but she had both legs free. 

“See, like that!” Krem clapped in approval before turning to Bull. “Captain, we’d like to discuss the next incursion with you before we depart for Adamant.” 

“I’ll be right there.” Bull turned back to Aizea and Cullen both struggling for the upper hand. “You’re doing all right, kid. I’ll catch you later at the tavern.” 

Bull began to follow Krem out the door and paused for a second looking back at the sparring opponents, “Oh, Commander? Don’t let that little elf girl beat you.” He winked at Aizea. 

“Hey! Bull! You’re supposed to help me beat him!” Aizea called out as Bull departed the training room. 

“Come on, Inquisitor! I’m a big bad bandit, what’re going to do-that isn’t magic related” Cullen said as he flipped her to the ground onto her stomach, he held her arms behind her.   
  
The briefing lasted for an hour and a half. Jim carefully wrote down the notes of everything Emile and Leliana had to discuss.  “You’ll have the report for my agents to deliver to Capatain Rhylen ready this afternoon.” Leliana told Jim. “You need to debrief the Commander. I have to go.”   
  
Jim gulped hard. Last time Leliana told him to debrief the Commander he almost had his face torn off by the Commander for interrupting a meeting with Inquisitor Aizea. Every meeting since then had me been tense, to say the least. Jim dismissed himself and headed down the stairs. In the Grand Hall there was a a giant platter of beautiful rolls with a bowl of some kind of broth in the center. His stomach growled again. He looked at the plate of rolls. Certainly no one would miss a single roll, right?  He reached out for a roll and quickly brought it to his mouth for a large bite. To Jim’s surprise he discovered they weren’t mere bread, they were stuffed with spiced ground meat with vegetables and cheese. He made a sound of pure pleasure as he devoured the entirety of the stuffed roll. Jim closed his eyes as he licked his fingers. For a moment, he forgot about being late to an essential meeting, Threnn yelling at him up all 300 steps to the castle, Leliana scolding him, and the long boring meeting. He fluttered his eyes open to see an extremely angry Josephine in front of him.

  
“Did you... just eat one of the Duke Thelier’s rolls? He asked for exactly ten, now there’s nine. You better hope the cook made extras. This’s a disaster!”   
Josephine stormed out in the direction of the kitchen. 

Jim let out a loud sigh. The day wasn’t over over yet, he’d already pissed off two of the senior officers of the Inquisition and he still had yet to face the Commander. He headed across the bridge to his office hoping it wasn’t going to be a bad time, again.   
  
Aizea had finally worked her way out of the arm bind and headlock and flipped herself around sitting on Cullen’s torso, her arms freed. “Ha ha! I’m the victor!” She raised her arms to the sky ceiling in victory. 

Cullen, smirked and said, “Not so fast.” He swung his left arm around her and knocked Aizea to the ground, she made a loud “Ooof” as she landed. Cullen rolled over on top of her pinning her hands to the floor. 

Disappointed  at her short lived victory, Aizea’s eyes lit up as an idea came across her mind. She breathed a moment, her heart rate already elevated and breaths were still short and choppy, then leaned up and in a surprise move, kissed Cullen. 

Both of them drenched in sweat from the training exercise laid entangled together on the training room floor. Cullen released her wrists and she pulled his soaked shirt off his chest between kisses. They forgot where they were and the world stopped. Cullen pulled up Aizea’s shirt and cupped her breast with his hand before placing his lips to her nipple while his hands went to the small of her back arcing her toward him. She tasted salty and warm. 

Aizea with haste reached for her pants and untied the fastener. Cullen pulled her pants off in a single swipe. The wet leather made a satisfying “plop” sound when it landed on the floor. Aizea sat up and continued to kiss Cullen deeply and passionately as she untied and unbuttoned his pants. She pushed him to his back as she tugged his pants down to his knees. Her kisses descended from his face down to his torso down his hips...

  
Jim knocked on the Commander’s door, no answer. He took a long breath, and opened the door, the same time another messenger, one he hadn’t met before, opened the adjacent door. The room was empty except for the messengers.  “Uh, have you seen the Commander?” Jim asked the other messenger timidly, the messenger dropped some papers off on the desk.

  
“Yeah, he’s doing some hand to hand lessons in the training room off the library. He’s probably there. Heard we got a bunch of new recruits this week. Probably giving them the run down.” The messenger quickly departed and Jim let out a sigh of relief.  
  
“To the training room it is.” Jim smiled and headed back across the bridge.  
  
Cullen pulled Aizea up and kissed her lips. He looked up at her, the dim light of the room haloed her head with a the glow, the deep scar across her brow and cheek faded  behind her smile. Her skin was speckled like a wild creature darker than his by a shade. Her freckles made her almost feline or like a spotted elk. Cullen brushed her hair off her face as he sat up wrapping his arms around her as he moved within her rhythmically. Aizea let out a quiet moan as her lean and muscular thighs tightened around Cullen as she moved with him.  
  
The sting of Josephine’s scolding had eased as Jim descended the stairs to the training room. He heard some grunts and breathing and didn’t think anything of it. He was happy to not have to endure the constant bruises of physical training anymore. He received what training was mandatory and now his life was writing and delivering reports. Jim fancied himself a strong writer. Someday he would try his hand at fiction, like Varric who was his hero but never had the courage to talk to him.   
Jim began to daydream about what his first tale would be about as he pushed the door to the training room open. 

Jim’s daydream was abruptly shattered when he saw what lay before him.

There, naked as the day she was born, the Inquisitor Aizea Lavellan, lay upon her back, her freckled legs wrapped around the Commander Cullen, who was shirtless and his pants around his knees on top of the her, the Inquisitor, mid rut.   
  
Jim stood in disbelief, there they were: his two bosses, not training new recruits, but fornicating on the training room floor. Jim was frozen, unsure of what to do, then after the longest breath of his life he ascended the stairs faster than he knew he was capable.  He ran to the Commander’s office, found some loose paper and began to furiously write out the report he was supposed to orally deliver. 

The report was proving to properly relay difficult because he could barely focus. He kept seeing Lady Lavellan’s face and then her very naked body. His face flushed a dark rouge.

The messenger he met earlier returned to Commander Cullen’s office. “Are you... alright. You look like you have a fever.”

Jim finished scribbling his notes and looked up at the messenger. It was a woman, with the same shade of bronze and copper hair as Lady Lavellan. He panicked. “He needs to read the..” Jim mumbled as his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell to the stone floor, passing out.  
  
Blackness surrounded Jim, in a cool comforting blanket. His eyes batted open and before his eyes Commander Cullen was face to face with him, holding a cool rag over his head.

“Are you alright? You’re gonna have quite the welt from where you hit the table on the way down.”

Jim panicked again. His eyes darted around wildly. The Commander was clothed, he was still in the Commander’s office. 

“Jim! You lout!” Threnn almost sounded concerned. “He missed breakfast today, sir and was late for a meeting with Sister Leliana, maybe he’s fallen ill?”

“Would you take him to the infirmary? A healer should take a look at that bump on his head, regardless.” Cullen asked, not commanded. 

Threnn helped Jim to his feet wrapping an arm around her shoulder. 

“Threnn, when you’re done, pop down to the kitchen and have the cook whip up some egg pies for the both of you. It’s been a cold one, today.” The Commander smiled. It was a softer side to Cullen that neither Threnn or Jim had seen before.  
  
Later in the infirmary, after the healer had treated what truly was a fever and his head wound, Jim shared a nice lunch with Threnn. After Threnn departed, Jim wrote a private letter to his favorite cousin, Captain Rylen as was his weekly ritual.  
   
 _'Dear Cousin,_  
  
_This week’s been a rough one here in Skyhold. Fresh snow everywhere and since the Inquisitor’s back from Adamant, everyone’s been hustling and worrying. The more victories we have, the more I worry there’ll be a repeat of Haven._  
  
_Some things are different. Maker’s breath. I don’t know how to write this, and you must keep my confidence good cousin, but I saw things today I can’t unsee._  
  
_Your friend, the Commander Cullen, I saw him with the Inquisitor. Maker save me, she was naked. Her freckled legs wrapped around his waist, I don’t think I’ve seen a more beautiful woman... freckled like an inverted night sky. Thighs of constellations... but oh maker, our Commander? How? Wouldn’t it be a sin to fornicate with the Herald of Andraste? To see her as a... person, is concerning. That means she could die, we could all die. Did you know? I always saw her as the Herald, but now I know she’s a woman. I mean, Maker take me, a real woman. Does this make the Commander more holy? How do I deal with this? You’ve met Lady Lavellan at the Keep, am I out of line? I feel lost._  
  
_I’ve also began to noticed other women I work with... are women! With breasts beneath their clothes! My friend Threnn, she smells sweet. I never noticed, I was so focused on the job... If the Commander could court the Inquisitor, do you think I could ask Threnn to join me for a drink sometime? Or give her flowers?_  
  
_Sorry for this rambling mess. I have a concussion and a fever._  
  
_Your cousin,_  
  
_Jaimessen Aurtur Thominson_ '  
  
  
Rylen wrote a special reply to his cousin Jim and in a few days Commander Cullen found this message on his desk.  
   
 _'Commander, I’m here with sand in every crevice and you’re in Skyhold comfortable with Inquisitor’s freckled thighs wrapped around your waist? This is bullshit. Also, we’re having more Vargest problems. Fix it, Ser. Also, send us a damn cook. Ration’s aren’t cutting it. Also, don’t cock this up, Ser._

  
_-Captain Rylen'_


	2. Chapter 2

“You want to DRINK me?!” Threnn exclaimed a combination of disbelief and laughter. 

The color drained from Jim’s face. That wasn’t what he meant to say. Oh damn. Oh damn. Please Andraste save me, Jim thought to himself. He was in shock, how could his tongue betray him like this? “I... I...” Panic began to overwhelm Jim as the knot in his stomach ballooned into the size of a high dragon.

Threnn looked at Jim with her head cocked to the side. She couldn’t for the life of him understand what was troubling him so deeply. “Are you broken, Jim? Do I need to take you to the healer again?”

This wasn’t going according to plan at all. He took his dear cousin, Captain Rhylen’s advice. Every day he practiced saying, “Threnn, would you have a drink with me?” Jim practiced the phrase so much that he even felt confident saying it. 

Every day since Jim knocked his head had been torture as Jim continued to notice things about Threnn. First, he noticed the color of her eyes. They were green. Not seaside green, but lush rolling fields in the heart of spring speckled with tiny yellow flowers. Jim knew he desperately needed to learn the name of these blossoms. Clover green, fern green, moss green: Jim began to obsess on the shades of green he discovered every time he looked at Threnn. 

It became disastrous to attempt conversation with Threnn because all Jim wanted to do was tell her about the shades of green he discovered in her eyes every time he looked. 

Earlier that week Threnn grabbed Jim’s hand when one of the kitchen elves exclaimed the cook made too many biscuits and they ran like children to the kitchen filling the bottom of their shirts with cookies and brought them down to the soldiers encamped below the fortress. 

Jim’s heart stopped, and he thought he would die from the ecstasy of the touch of her fingers against his palm.

Later in the week, Threnn and Jim stayed awake until dawn while Threnn recounted for the sixty-seventh time, Jim was keeping track, how it was bullshit that Alistair stole the throne from Queen Anora and married that terrible Cousland girl. Threnn had met her once and didn’t think fondly at all about the Hero of Fereldan. 

Jim thought the Hero of Fereldan was great, and King Alistair was nice, but he liked the way Threnn spoke, so he didn’t mind her strong and pungent opinions. 

There he was, the moment of truth and he blew it. He even negotiated with Bree to cut his hair and smuggle some scented oils. 

“Thedas to Jim, can you hear me?” Threnn asked mockingly. 

Jim envisioned his cousin, Captain Rylen, galant and centered. What would he do? He opened his mouth to speak and then Michel, the disgraced Orlesian Chevalier approached Threnn and Jim.

“I hate to interrupt,” Michel said smoothly. The sun danced off his golden hair. “Threnn, I will see you again tonight, yes?” 

Threnn’s cheeks flushed the color of a rose. As she grinned widely her dimples like crescent moons a parenthesis to her smile. “Of course, Ser! I... can’t wait!” 

Michel bowed and took Threnn’s hand and kissed the space between her index and middle knuckles. 

The horror of the realization hit Jim. Quickly without saying a word, he turned about face and grabbed his orders from Leliana to deliver to the Commander. 

“Jim! Jim!” Threnn called after him.

Jim heard nothing but the sound of his broken heart. He saw to his duties, ignored the usual jabs and slanders from his fellow messengers. 

That night he sat alone at the Herald’s Rest. He had about six pints to himself before the stool next to him was occupied.

“I’ll take an ale.” Varric said to Cabot before studying the dejected messenger drowning his sorrows. 

“You’re Jim, right? The messenger?” Varric asked, the dwarf behind the bar slid Varric a pint. 

“Does it even matter?” Jim asked, his words slurred and his posture was that of stacked damp towels.

“Let me guess, girl problems?” Varric raised his pint to his lips. “Getting drunk won’t make the hurt go away.”

Jim slammed the rest of his ale. “Neither is talking about it!”

Varric shook his head. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. Did she die?”

Jim shook his head. “Worse than that, she fancies someone else. I mean, how can I compete with that?”

Varric grinned, “Well, it depends on who that someone else is, if it’s Curly, you’re shit out of luck, if It’s.... I don’t know?”

“It’s the Chevalier, Michel.” Jim blurted out a  
little too loud.

Varric frowned. “Sorry, kid. You’re screwed.” 

Jim propped himself up by his elbows, his face drooped. “Honestly, I’m not even sure what l’d do if I had her.”

“You’ve never had *the* talk before, have you?” Varric queried while signaling that he was going to need another pint. 

“What talk?” Jim also gestured to Cabot requesting another drink. 

“No, no more for him, he needs to be able to attempt to remember this conversation.” Varric explained.

Cabot smirked and returned to polishing the steel ale steins. 

Varric took a moment to take in the very droopy, intoxicated and ruddy cheeked messenger before him. “Okay, buddy. When, a man has strong feelings about... a woman.” Varric paused, “or another person, but let’s stick with women because they come with some extra consequences. It comes with lots of extra *feelings* you may not be used to.” Varric sighed. “Do you know how babies are made, Jim? “

Jim’s eyes widened and he sat up in his seat. “Yes, I know how babies are made... I’m not a virgin. Maker... I had some times with the other ewer in Starkhaven castle, but... she wasn’t very happy with my... damn it. Okay, I’m a virgin. I do understand how babies are made.”

“Okay, being a virgin isn’t a bad thing, but it does mean it’s going to take some... practice to become very proficient.” Varric chose his words carefully and promptly finished his ale. 

Jim sighed. “Rhylen told me the same thing. He said I just lose my virginity to any girl who’d have me, which is why I regret rejecting the other ewer. She was nice, but, I didn’t like her like that.” Jim rotated on his stool to face Varric. “I grew up reading about romance and adventure, and in the closet with that girl didn’t feel right. I want something special. I know I’m not the most handsome, I’m not a warrior, I’m not heroic or even special. I’m just, Jim. I want a life that means something, to me.” He then looked down and exhaled a long held in breath. 

Varric leaned over and placed a hand on Jim’s shoulder, “Hey now, kid. You are special. There’s someone out there for you, maybe it isn’t who you think. Work on being the best you, you can be. The rest will fall into place and when you meet that right person, you two can learn together.”

Varric slid off his stool and took a few steps toward the door before he turned around. “I hope they weren’t my stories because... never mind.” He waved his hand away.

Jim smiled for the first time since that morning, “Don’t worry, they weren’t.” Jim lied.


	3. Chapter 3

That morning the sun was bright and Threnn noticed for the first time how the morning light caused the glaciers to glitter like blue diamonds. The warmth of the sun warmed her cheeks as well as her heart. The bitterness that lurked inside Threnn’s soul gave way to honey. The Inquisitor had done so much, maybe the future was bright after all, she whispered in her mind, a thought so fragile she couldn’t give it a full internal voice.

Threnn’s duties that morning included a new task, count the empty ale barrels and inform Josephine. This was so the ambassador could ensure they could order more barrels in order to double the amount of ale and wine being stored at Skyhold to manage the constant influx of more and more people joining the Inquisition. 

Threnn leisurely strolled to the cask room and sang an old Fereldan Army Ballad to herself as she descended: 

Oh my name is Otto I’ve just gone Sixteen

My home is in Redcliffe, there I was weened

I’s taught all my life cruel Orlais’s to blame 

That makes us all part of the Fereldan Game.

This land of ours has long been half- free

Under the oppression of Orelsian tyranny

I’ll take up my sword

And…

Threnn paused her song and kicked the base of the stacked barrels five high for percussion. The barrels cascaded down. A loud howl of “Whhhhhooooaaaaaaaaaaaa!” reverberated in the small stone chamber.

Jaimessen Aurtur Thominson (More commonly known as Jim) tumbled out of one of the empty barrels.

“Jim!” Threnn shouted, “What the bloody hell are you doing in there?!” She knelt down and placed a hand on Jim’s back.

Jim dry heaved on his hands and knees, “I...ugh...I..” Jim promptly emptied the contents of his stomach on the floor. 

Threnn covered her mouth as the acidic smell filled her nostrils, “Aw, Jim. What did you do? Drink an entire barrel?” She pulled a rag out of her pocket and blotted his mouth and pulled Jim to his feet, allowing him to lean his weight against her. “We gotta get you cleaned up, buddy.” 

Jim pushed Threnn back, fell back to his knees as he once again emptied his stomach onto the floor.

Threnn sighed, “Better out than in with what my Commander used to say.” Threnn bent down and gently patted his back.

Aizea Lavellan trudged back to Skyhold, up the pass. Through the soldier’s camps where she was waylaid to speak with her troops. She wasn’t the most optimistic sight, mud caked, blood on her staff, sand tinted skin and clothes. 

“Inquisitor, where did you return from?” The young recruit asked.

“We just defeated a Venatori stronghold in the Western Approach!” Aizea Lavellan declared triumphantly, hiding her weariness.

After a few more questions she, along with Bull, Sera and Dorian finally arrived at the fortress. Up the stairs to the main hall. The distance was greater than she remembered.

“Andraste’s Tit’s Jim, how much did you drink?”

Threnn pulled Jim up out of the tub. He had passed out while Threnn bathed him, woken up and vomited over the side, away from Threnn. Threnn had anticipated this and had placed a bucket there for Jim to aim at.

“I’m not a potato.” Jim slurred his words.

“No, you’re an idiot.” Threnn towelled Jim off as he draped over her, unable to remain standing. “And you owe me for this one.” 

The world swirled around Jim as his head began to pound.

“No, you’re not a potato.” Threnn finally responded to Jim’s statement as she dressed him. Having served as a sergeant in Logain’s army, this wasn’t the first time she cleaned up a friend after a night of drinking. “But, you are an idiot.”

“If I’m not a potato, then why did you soup me?” Jim asked struggling with his boots.

“Soup you? Holy Grace of Andraste, Jim! I bathed you, I didn’t soup you!” Roughly, Threnn shoved Jim’s feet into his boots and tied the wraps. She threw his hood at him. “Come on, you’re gonna need help delivering your reports.”

Jim grabbed his stack of papers from the floor of his tent and with Threnn’s help, they headed for the Commander’s office.

A gentle rap-rap-rap of a knock on the Commander’s door. Cullen ignored it because he thought it was in his imagination. The lyrium withdrawls were strong that morning. Sweat beaded on his brow, he tried to read the reports on his desk but the words blurred into fuzzy stripes.

On the other side of the door Jim, being held up by Threnn waited. They waited for a few minutes and after not hearing anything they opened the door and stumbled in.

Cullen, startled snapped, “What in the Maker?!nis there a moratorium on knocking in Skyhold I wasn’t aware of?”

“Sorry, Ser, we did and there was no response so we entered.” Threnn to the rescue.

Cullen scowled and then waved them inside. “Come on, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you. What’s your report?”

Jim took a few steps forward and dumped the stack of papers on the commander’s desk in a clumsy mess. 

Startled by Jim’s fumble, annoyed by his own maladies and generally grumpy, Cullen roared. “I’ll read them myself, just get out!” 

“Sorry, Ser!” Threnn shouted as she drug Jim out of Cullen’s office. 

Cullen had already had enough of the morning and decided it was best to retire to a nap for an hour. Just as he has settled upstairs he heard the door open and shut. 

A very muddy and exhausted Aizea Lavellan enerered the office looking for Cullen. “Commander Rutherford?” She called in a sing-songy voice. 

“I’m napping.” Cullen called down. “If you want to read any updates, the reports are on my desk.”

Aizea frowned. She could hear the strain in his voice, shrugged. She removed a muddy glove and reached for a sheet of paper that lay on top of the scattered stack spread across Cullen’s desk. She had never seen his desk in the state of disarray before. Well, maybe once before. 

Immediately, Aizea began to read. It’s contents were as followed:

In a land of perpetual winter 

A look from your face 

Cheekbones of gentle slopes 

So soft against the jutting spires 

Of mountains so near

Oh to be near

So near

A whisper

The thump thump of a heart

The keeper of your time

I catch your eyes in mine

Green

Green like the lowland fields

Where tiny yellow flowers permeate

Like tiny rebellions 

Declaring no one color can hold dominion

A smile, a laugh, captured like parenthesis

By the dimples of your cheeks

A laugh, a tear, welling up from a life

So well lived it hardens your smile and 

Engulfs your heart.

All of this in a single moment

I can cherish for more lifetimes

Than I’ve been given 

I’d give them all to see you

Beyond these mountain tops

Beside your keeper of time

A look of concern flashes over Aizea’s face. Who wrote Cullen poetry? She thought. Then it occurred to her that she had never seen Cullen’s writing. Aizea forced a smile and placed her fingers on her cheeks and there she discovered dimples. Dimples? She had Dimples? Aizea hadn’t been a vain Dalish girl, spending her time looking at her reflection in tide pools or lakes. 

Aizea’s eyes widened, she grabbed the poem and leaped up the ladder and pounced onto the bed startling Cullen awake.

Cullen reacted from instinct, he pushed her down and almost struck her before his mind regained clarity and saw it wasn’t a demon or bloodmage beneath him, it was his lover, and boss, Inquisitor Aizea Lavellan with an expression on her face that matched when a cat finally gets a canary. 

Cullen withdrew and shook his head apologetically. “I’m sorry… I was out cold...I didn’t mean to…”

Aizea didn’t mind, there were enough nights Cullen had received an elbow to the eye or throat because she was reliving a battle in her dreams on more than one occasion. Some say loving and sleeping next to a fighter is more danger than meeting them on the field of battle. She shot back up and leaped into Cullen’s lap wrapping her arms around her him, the poem scrunched in her hand.”

“This… this is the most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me! I love you! Thank you!” Aizea squeezed him tighter.

“Almost kill you because you woke me?” Cullen said out of breath, she was squeezing a little too tight. 

Aizea showered him with kisses and then like a toddler who made his first illustration she thrust the poem in front of his face. “You wrote me a poem! It’s so beautiful! I love you so much!” 

Cullen snatched the poem from her hands and began to study it. “Uh… oh…. oh no.”

Aizea cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong? Are you on Lyrium again?” She grabbed the paper from Cullen and stared at him intensely. “Darling, we agree’d. You quit…”

Cullen, panicked shook his head, “Oh Maker, no! I quit Lyrium… it’s just… I didn’t write that.”

“You didn’t write it? Did you have Varric write it for you? I mean…” Aizea’s hopes began to plummet. 

Cullen shook his head. “I’m… sorry. I… I… had nothing to do with this…”

Aizea scowled. “Then who’s writing you poetry?Wait… you don’t have green eyes.”

Aizea looked down at herself and realized she had filled Cullen’s bed with dried mud. “I should go get cleaned off… and I’ll have the maid staff bring you fresh bedding…” As quickly and she had rocketed up the ladder she was out of the Commander’s office. 

“Well, shit.” Cullen said to himself.

Several hours later. 

Jim and Threnn stood before the Commander st attention. 

Cullen paced in front of them. His scowl was more severe than either had seen before. After a few moments he whipped out the poem and held it up. 

“Do either of you know anything about this?” Cullen demanded.

Jim and Threnn stood reading the poem. 

“Sounds like some lovesick wanker.” Threnn blurted out. Jim winced.

Jim swallowed hard then meekly said, “Yes, Ser.”

Cullen rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised.” He paced a few more moments. “Why are you writing love poetry about her Grace, the Inquisitor?”

Jim panicked. “No, Ser. No no no no no.” He stuttered. “It’s not about Lady Lavellan.”

Cullen raised an eyebrow. “So you did write it. I thought I recognized your hand. It was either you or Threnn.”

Jim sighed defeated. “It was me… I’m sorry I drank too much and… it got mixed up in my papers…”

Cullen became annoyed. “Well, then. Who is it? Because it sure sounds like a healthy infatuation with her Grace. Which is inappropriate to leave on my desk.”

Jim stuttered again. “Oh, please Ser, don’t make me say.”

“I’m already dealing with a situation here. Don’t make it worse” Cullen growled.

Threnn giggled. “Jim! You’ve got a crush?! You didn’t tell me!”

“That’s because… that’s because it was for you, Threnn.” Jim blurted out. 

Cullen and Threnn both stared at Jim in disbelief. 

Cullen, having realized he just humiliated his messenger sighed then said, “Both if you, get out of my office.” 

The two messengers marched out. 

The Commander rested his head in his hand. “Maker, what have I done?” 

Varric, who’d been sitting in the back all along, as Cullen’s writing expert chimed in. “Well, Curly. You certainly took an uncomfortable situation and make it worse. Good thing time heals all… well, most wounds. Jim’s a resilient kid… not too shabby of a writer either. Needs practice, but hey, who doesn’t.”

Cullen sighed. “His cousin is Rylen, right?”

Varric shrugged. “How’s her Inquisitorialness taking things?”

“Badly. She’s disappointed I never written her anything… romantic. I’m not a writer, I’m.. I was.. a templar. I’m a Commander… Andraste save me.” Cullen lamented.

Once out the doors, Jim bolted down the stairs. 

“Wait! Jim!” Threnn yelled out after him. 

Jim didn’t head to his tent, he ran straight to the chapel and began to pray. Threnn searched all of Skyhold for him, except there. 


	4. Chapter 4

Rylen looked at Jim.  “Jaimessen Artur Thominson, what in Andraste’s name are you doing  _ here?” _

Jim looked at his cousin.  “There’s so much sand…it gets everywhere.”

“Yes, Jim, it does.  Now report.”

“I…Commander Cullen had this message to hand-deliver.”  He dug in his belt, then the messenger pouch, then his pack, getting redder by the minute.  Rylen was pretty sure it was embarrassment, because the peeling sunburns had already turned his fair-skinned cousin into something that looked…molted.  After desperate scrabbling, he found it in his messenger pouch, all smashed into a ball.  The seal, somehow, hadn’t been broken.

Rylen sighed.   _ If this isn’t about that cook I asked for…   _ Then again, he had maybe said more than he should have in that letter, even to someone he’d known for the last fifteen years.  They  _ were  _ Commander and Captain now, even if Cullen didn’t stand on too much ceremony with his officers.  But by Maferath himself, this assignment was miserable.  Dirt, dust, darkspawn…everything smelled horrible.  His eyes widened as he read Cullen’s simple, bold writing.  

_ ‘Find him something to do.  He’s not allowed back to Skyhold unless you receive orders otherwise, for his sake.’ _

Rylen sighed.   _ Bollocks.  _  He noticed someone being greeted with great excitement.  “Who is that?”

“The new cook, Ser!”  His Sergeant was ecstatic.  It meant he no longer had to try come up with a rota of people who could at least create ‘edible’ in the middle of a Maker-damned desert.  Rylen gave a brief sigh of relief – whatever his cousin had done, it wasn’t tied to the letter he’d sent to the Commander three weeks ago.   _ He  _ wasn’t involved.

“Alright, everyone.  The Sergeant will find you somewhere to bed down.  Jim…” his cousin looked up hopefully, “talk to the healers about your face.  And hands.  And just…in general.  I’m sure they have a salve or something.  I’ll see you after supper.”  He headed back to his room, wondering what in the hell he was supposed to do with a messenger who managed to be good enough to recover from the fact everything he tried turned to shit – who was also family.  And who he secretly admired for the fact he never gave up, no matter how badly he managed to muck things up.

He looked over the damned reports – no wonder Cullen had always been in a bad mood.  If the nightmares weren’t enough…he sighed and rubbed his wrists.  He knew he was playing fast and loose with the Commander’s demand he stay on the lyrium, but he was so tired of the questions he couldn’t answer to himself.  Reports.  Right.

Another man down to what looked like quillback poison.  That was an odd relief; the beasts, amazingly ugly crosses between a pig and a porcupine, but the size of a wild boar and  _ red _ of all things, were disgusting and hard to kill, like everything seemed to be out here, but almost everyone recovered from the poison it shot.  But he didn’t have anyone else to fill that patrol…wait.  It wasn’t a challenging one, just a basic patrol from here, around the oasis and past the old mine.  Bandits kept coming back to that camp, but that and the quillbacks were the only real threats, unlike the patrols to the north.  Something  _ important, _ because you really needed three to deal with a quillback if it had little…whatever-they-weres, but not  _ dangerous. _

__ _ I can…that would work.  You need someone to track distance, and write up the reports.  Not enough of my people out here are comfortable with numbers or letters.   _ He saw Jim’s face, those earnest blue eyes and desperate desire to do something  _ right _ , and hoped he wasn’t about to make a terrible mistake.

**

“The healers say the salve will start working in a couple of days.”  Despite the good news, Jim’s face was forlorn.

“Jim, what happened?”

His cousin gave a wild look.  “Nothing!  Why would you think anything was wrong, or happened, or didn’t happen…?”

Rylen just sighed and rubbed his head.  “Jaimessen, because you’re here.  You’re one of Leliana’s best when it comes to distilling meaning out of all the reports she gets, especially when it comes to talking to anyone outside her agents.  Did you  _ ask  _ for this so you didn’t have to ask Threnn out?”  Not that he could understand why anyone would want to spend time with the prickly, bitter former sergeant, now former quartermaster.  But she’d taken some of the newer messengers and ‘straightened them out,’ from what Bree had said.  ‘Put the fear of another Threnn lecture in them’ was how he’d translated it.  And he watched Jim’s face fall.

“She doesn’t…she’s not…I mean there’s…” his words fell apart.  “I tried to write, because I can’t  _ talk  _ to her, not about this, but it got all mixed up in the other papers, and when I tried to get it back from the Commander’s desk…”  his face turned purple.  “And now I’m here, but it doesn’t matter because she doesn’t want me, it’s just that too-perfect Chevalier!”

Rylen sighed.  So, lovestruck, depressed  _ and  _ managed to walk in on the Commander.  Again.  That would do it.  “Has your swordwork gotten any better?”

“It’s better than my bow?”

So, no.  Then again, he usually managed to avoid hurting anyone  _ else  _ with the sword, so there was that.  “Ok, I’m adding you to the oasis patrol.  It’s just for a couple weeks, until the usual can get back on his feet.”  Rylen tried for a cheerful tone.  “This will give you a unique chance to see what the reports of yours are all about.”

**

Rylen swore, loudly, colorfully and creatively, as the diminished patrol reported in.   _ Two days.  TWO DAYS!  That’s all it took.  _  He stopped as he saw their wide eyes.   _ Bloody Maferath, may he have buggered the Archon himself.  They’re taking notes. _  A deep breath.  Another.  “So, you’re telling me he started sliding down the side of the canyon.”  Quick nods.  “And…you just watched.”  Ashamed nods – they were beginning to realize ignoring the ‘new kid’ may have been a stupid, childish mistake.  “And then you saw a varghest dragging him into a cave.”  Frozen terror now, as his razor-sharp voice made their babbled explanations clear as nothing but excuses.  “Get out.”

He put his head in his hands, then looked at the schedules, patrols and equipment.  “Vaniss!”  His orderly poked her head into his office.

“Ser?”

“Get the sergeant.  Now.”  Unless he could come up with a miracle, it would take another week…or even two…before he’d have a team he could send into the Oasis to try and recover Jim’s body.  He pulled over a piece of paper, to tell the Commander – and Inquisitor – that he at least knew what had happened to the water supply.

**

He had to join that damned patrol, had to have them take him to where he’d managed to kill his cousin.

“Here, Ser.”  The wind had wiped away any sign of his slide, or the rocks that had gone down with him.

He tied a rope around his waist, then the other end to a sturdy outcropping.  “You two, hold on to the rope as well.  The third will keep watch.  I need to get closer.”

“Captain!  We can’t – you can’t…”

“Overrule me, because I outrank you.  Now don’t fuck this up.”  He started moving toward the dropoff, and watched as they went through the calculus, realized that the sergeant would personally flay them alive if they also lost the Captain, and did what they were told.  The sand was terrible, loose and sliding under his feet, but he still found enough rocks to start working his way down.  All he wanted was to see how the lay of the land was, he told himself – to make sure that unlike most varghest prey, Jim wasn’t still suffering.  The monstrous creatures, some unholy combination of dog, wyvern and bird, preferred to bring live prey to their nests.  It stayed fresher that way.  He heard echoes in the canyon, and closed his eyes in pain.  Then snapped them open again as the cries started to make words.

“It’s ok!  I promise, I’ll be fine!  I…I’m just not hungry right now, really…I just need another drink of water!”  Worried and desperate, Jim’s voice rang clear.  But since his voice was always worried and desperate, that was a good sign.

He took a deep breath, then used his ‘Captain’s’ shout.   _ “JIM!” _

A startled “Rylen?” came back.

He looked down – too far, he didn’t have rope enough to find a way to get his cousin out.  “Jim!  Are you unhurt?”

“I…lost my salve and got a bad scrape down my leg, but…but I just don’t know how to tell her I don’t  _ like _ quillback!”  His voice was edging toward panic.

“Ok, Jim, we can fix this.”  Shouting in a calm voice was a challenge, Rylen noted absently.  “I’m going to toss down my rations…that will give you something to eat.  We’ll figure out how to get messages, and how to kill the varghest.  It might take a few days.”

“Wait!  You…you can’t  _ kill _ her, Rylen, she has babies!  And she…she cares, and she’s just trying to take care of me, even though it’s all wrong!”

He started beating his head against the nearest outcropping.  Of  _ course  _ his cousin got adopted.  Why not.  What else could go wrong?  This.  Now Jim wanted to protect the damned thing.  “I’ll find a way, Jim.”

**

__ _ ‘…so Jim managed to lead the varghest – and her…pups?  Whatever baby varghests are called, they’re even uglier when they’re little…two ravines over.  We blocked off the canyon, but it’s in a perfect position for fennecs and hyenas to fall in when they’re chasing each other.  Now, Cullen, take him back.  It’s not his fault he’s a love-struck idiot.  Sooner or later, Threnn’ll notice and he’ll be her problem, not ours.’ _


	5. Chapter 5

After a few months of being away and receiving the rare privilege of witnessing Varghest maternal behaviors first hand Jaimessen Aurtur Thominson (More commonly known as Jim) had returned to Skyhold.

There was nothing Jim wanted more than to see Threnn’s freckled face. He was over the embarrassment of his ill fated poem and the debacle on whom it was intended to reach. Since then he had some good life experience. He was ready. A few choice words from his dear second cousin twice removed Captain Rylen had also bolstered his spirits. Something along the lines of, “Well, Jaimessen you managed to stare down a Varghest and not piss yourself, Threnn is no different than that beast. She just wants to be understood. Start getting to know her and she’ll, likely, want to get to know you.”

After the three day’s climb through a freak summer blizzard Jim and company returned to Skyhold.

“Wh...what do you mean she’s gone?” Jim stuttered as his heart skipped a few beats.

“Sorry, Jim. She’s working as a requisition officer with Sutherland and company while they get established at their Keep in Crestwood.” Bree responded, more gently than he’d expected. Everyone in Skyhold knew about the poem. Mostly because Herald Aizea Lavellan couldn’t stop talking about how beautiful it was and how she had ridiculously thought it was Cullen, yes the Commander of few words, who had penned it for her. This grated on Cullen, and worst of all Aizea was too busy saving the world with Yareth to really notice.

Jim returned to his tent, except his tent was gone. “Andraste’s tit’s!” Jim swore quietly. The sound of someone clearing their voice behind him startled Jim and he leaped a foot in the air before turning around.

“You were away for two and half months and already you sound like Rylen,” Commander Cullen chuckled.

Jim quickly saluted folding his arm across his chest. “Commander!”

“At ease, Messenger.”  The Commander’s voice was quiet, without the snap of anger he’d heard last.  “Come, you’ve been promoted. You’ve also been given quarters beside the other senior messengers. Leliana requires you closer because of your code breaking skills. You’ll also be receiving a raise. Follow me.” Cullen whipped around and began ascending the stairs to the fortress. After they snaked through through Skyhold they arrived at the row of small rooms above the garden. Cullen pushed open the door to a room that had previously been without a roof or furnishings to reveal humble but cozy quarters. Inside there was a desk, a chair, a bed - a real bed, a full mattress, and even with soft and warm blankets. He was sure his clothes were folded and in the tiny dresser.

“Sister Leliana requires her codebreakers to be well taken care of. What you do for this Inquisition is invaluable.” Cullen said calmly.

Jim was anything but calm. He was a riot inside. First hearing the worst news of his life, then the best? By the one person whom he had accidentally wronged the most? Impossible. “Are you sure you’ve got the right Jim, Ser?”

Cullen shook his head with another half-smile. “In the words of your cousin: Don’t cock it up.”

After the first night in a real bed in a room with heating for the first time since he had left Starkhaven Castle, Jim awoke with a cold.

“Figures.” He said to himself after sneezing five times in a row.

With flushed cheeks and a dripping nose he couldn’t seem to manage, no matter how many rags he stuffed into his sleeves, Jim head to his morning meeting with Sister Leliana. Before he crested the stairs he paused: he could hear a loud and impassioned conversation...and he recognized the voices.

“It’s safer for the Inquisition if both of our leaders who bear the mark  _ don’t  _ join our troops at Adamant. It would leave Skyhold completely vulnerable.  Also, only the Inquisitor has experience in a true battle between armies.”  Commander Rutherford folded his arms across his chest, his face as unwavering as his voice.

“But what if Corypheus’s there? What about his Archdemon? Won’t you need both of us?” Aizea Lavellan insisted. Since the poem debacle things had been sensitive between Aizea and Cullen. She strongly believed he overreacted, he didn’t agree.

“Look, Freckles, you have to deal with the nobles because I’ve no patience for them. I *will* toss one of them over the side of the mountain. Then Josephine will glare at both of this.” Yareth Adaar rested a large gray hand on Aizea’s shoulder.  “Besides, Cullen’s right.  Battlefields are different, complete chaos.”

Defeated, Aizea sighed. “I get it, asa’ma’lin.” She turned to Cullen, “Happy? You’re keeping me out of *danger* once again.”

Leliana sighed, annoyed with the debate. “Then, that settles it. Aizea will stay here and prepare for the ball at Halamshiral and Yareth proceeds with the army at Adamant. I’m afraid to say, Commander, I do believe Aizea will have never been in more danger in her life than she will be at Halamshiral.”

Without another word, Aizea and Yareth turned together and departed, leaving Cullen and Leliana to stand together in silence.

“I know she looks like a small fragile elf, but she’s stared down Corypheus and fought battle after battle to be here today.” Leliana said after a few minutes.  Cullen sighed.

Jim used the lull to make his entrance, which was anything but graceful, every step had its own accompanying sneeze.

“Bless you, Jim.” Leliana lightly laughed.

“Thank you, Sister Leliana.”

Jim stared at his room - the night wasn’t the same, without Threnn complaining about Arl Eamon and the King of Ferelden. Through fits of sneezes he began to pen another poem.

Echos of footsteps

I’ve arrived too late to witness

Husks of seeds strewn across

Meadows and mountain tops

The only whispers of the seeds

That wait below

I could reach out to the vapor

But even your scent has left me

No words, no nothing -

Less than nothing

Somewhere you smile

And there eternal springtime shines

Blossoming, radiating, igniting

Yet here I sit, in a more comfortable room

A world away from your winter thawing heart

I must be mad to sit and wonder and hope

But I’d rather live a life

Of wondering, hoping, waiting

From this place winter isn’t eternal

It’s just a season that ends.

Jim worked through the delirium of his cold and he no less than spilled soup on two nobles, switched dispatches from Commander Cullen to Sister Leliana, and one of fellow messengers thought it humorous to “pants” poor Jim in front The Chargers (Dalish was a good sport about the entire affair and offered Jim her belt).

Jim soldiered on for another three weekend without word from Threnn. His health rebounded, but his heart did not. The more somber he became the less he flubbed, though it helped that most of the Inquisition was at Adamant, including Commander Cullen.

After about a month after Jim’s return, Jim reported to Leliana in the morning. Leliana greeted Jim with a smile, instead of her usual serious scowl.

“Jim, please take a seat.” Leliana gestures to the chairs on either side of the table.

Leliana pauses and took a moment to study Jim. “You know, the Commander wasn’t always so handsome or even able to talk to women he liked.”

Jim leaned back in his seat with eyebrows raised.

Leliana laughed, “It’s true! One of my dearest friends is Ilyana Surana, the Hero of Ferelden, and she grew up at Kinloch Circle, where Cullen was first stationed.” She paused and fidgeted with something in her hands. A wash of sadness darkened her face before she looked back up to Jim’s bright blue eyes with a grin. “He presided over Harrowing. She fancied him, and he told everyone how strong and brave Ilyana was… and after she awoke recovered she asked him on a secret date.” Leliana was almost giggling at this part in her story, something Jim had never before witnessed.

“What did he do?” Jim asked a smirk of his own began to form.

“He ran away. That’s what he did. He ran away from her. It wasn’t long after that she became a warden and she didn’t see Cullen again until she saved his life…. but that’s not the point. The point is… I have a letter for you.” Leliana couldn’t hold back her exuberance any longer and handed Jim the tiny scroll. “Take the day, Jim.”

Jim cautiously extended a hand and grabbed the message. His eyes widened, he then looked up at Leliana. “You’ve read it?” 

“What kind of spymaster would I be, if I hadn’t I see everything coming and going from Skyhold, you know this.” Leliana continued to grin. 

Jim unraveled the tiny scroll, his eyes widened at the content. “Can I… write a response?” 

Before Jim could finish his sentence Leliana handed him a blank scroll and quill. 

“Oh, thank you, Sister Leliana.” Jim quickly and without hesitation wrote: “One drink with you is worth more than one thousand barrels-yes.” Jim handed the scroll back to Leliana, his spirits bolstered and his heart sang. 

“I’m sorry, I must go!” Jim leapt from his seat and ran down the stairs, he missed a step and tumbled down a few steps. Leliana  heard Jim shout, “I’m all right! I’m all right!” 

Jim rushed to his quarters and with haste and urgency he began to write. Not a poem this time, but something longer… something with narrative. A story. A story about a young servant who leaves his duties to go on a big adventure. 


	6. Chapter 6

_ ‘Jim _

__ _ I…didn’t know how to say this, and then you were gone.  And now I’m gone, because Skyhold is too weird when I’m not cleaning up after you.  Fuck.  Just…fuck.  I miss you.  I was surprised, still am, but you’re just a part of how this place works.  The Commander is sending me to help out Sutherland and crew – don’t get in too much trouble before I get back. _

__ _ Threnn’ _

Shit.  Would that work?  She hated writing letters, and this was awkward.  Damn the Commander for pushing, though if he thought Jim was writing about the Herald…yeah, she couldn’t really blame him.  Jealousy was a bitch.  She slipped the note under Jim’s tent flap, then turned and headed for the horses – and Ferelden.  An easy assignment, she was told.  Just help them get logistics set up for their new keep.  Bullshit.  Logistics were never easy, but it would be quick or there would be hell to pay, by someone.

**

_ Green like the lowland fields _ _   
_ __ _ Where tiny yellow flowers permeate _ _   
_ __ __ Like tiny rebellions

She shook her head, shook the words out.  Idiot.  Andraste’s tits!  He was a clusterfuck in motion, with those limpid blue eyes and absolute inability to get anything but his job right.  She knew better than to get involved in anything like that, especially with the dreamy Chevalier spending so much time with her.  A smile flitted across her lips at the memory of his deep voice - after she’d edited out the Orlesian accent, of course.  For some reason, her mind drifted back to Jim.  Jim, the un-editable.  Where would you even start?  She went back into the Keep, to yell at the Maker-damned farmers again.  This was great sheep country, why couldn’t they understand that would give Sutherland an industry of his own, a meat and clothing supply?  Instead – more damned grain.  They must be from further inland – didn’t the fucking morons understand that when you try grow corn and wheat on these hills, the crops just fall over?  There was land for that, too, but not the bloody, rocky hills.

__ _ ‘Jim _

__ _ Haven’t heard from you – I hope you’re back, and you’ve stayed out of trouble.’ _

Fat chance, but it was the nice thing to say, right?  She still remembered the time when he’d tried to ‘help’ and mixed up the menus for Yareth and the Chargers with Josephine’s formal banquet.  That dumb Marquis looked like his eyeballs were going to melt out through his mask, so much was pouring from the sides and holes and shit.  Which was funny, but the Ambassador had Not Been Pleased until she’d realized he’d sign anything in front of him for a promised end to the pain.  Those mercs liked food spiced to the Void and back.  Orlesians, not so much so.  She sighed.  For some reason, Michel’s voice didn’t stay in her mind the way those empty, earnest blue eyes did.  Fuck feelings – life was easier without them.

_ ‘I should be back in a few weeks.  Maybe we can get a drink or something, yeah?  One.  No more barrels for you, my boy.’ _

__ _ Threnn’ _

She stuck it on the messenger bird, right behind her report to Cullen.  The keep was finally coming along, after the farmers and sheep had spent a month just staring at each other.  The sheep were smarter, and eventually started eating.  They also didn’t bitch about Loghain or the rightful Queen, threatened out of her throne – maybe she shouldn’t have come.  She missed Skyhold, missed being at the beating heart of the Inquisition, helping the Inquisitor…she did more for Yareth than Aizea, though she was another one to not interrupt if the door was closed.  Those tattoos were branded across her brain.  She’d  _ heard, _ but seeing was another thing entirely.  How could anyone…?

**Fuck.  No – not fuck. _Definitely_ not fuck.  Forget that.  What those Qunari got up to didn’t matter, and she remembered to knock after that, since the big bastard didn’t believe in using locks.  Anyway.  It had been a few months, surely enough time for the Commander to cool down.  Enough time for her to figure out how to handle things…Michel had sent one note early on, but…it just didn’t compare.  And it was too Orlesian.  She hadn’t heard from Jim.  Someone would have told her if he’d gotten his bumbling ass killed, she told herself.  Maybe he’d given up the crush – that would be good.  Then it could be like it always had been.  And she could sneak the Seeker’s latest Sword and Shields, or whatever she’d found this time.  So long as she didn’t damage the pages and brought it back, Lady Pentaghast had never tried to hunt down whoever borrowed the books. **


	7. Chapter 7

After a few months of being away and receiving the rare privilege of witnessing Varghest maternal behaviors first hand Jaimessen Aurtur Thominson (More commonly known as Jim) had returned to Skyhold.

There was nothing Jim wanted more than to see Threnn’s freckled face. He was over the embarrassment of his ill fated poem and the debacle on whom it was intended to reach. Since then he had some good life experience. He was ready. A few choice words from his dear second cousin twice removed Captain Rylen had also bolstered his spirits. Something along the lines of, “Well, Jaimessen you managed to stare down a Varghest and not piss yourself, Threnn is no different than that beast. She just wants to be understood. Start getting to know her and she’ll, likely, want to get to know you.”

After the three day’s climb through a freak summer blizzard Jim and company returned to Skyhold.

“Wh...what do you mean she’s gone?” Jim stuttered as his heart skipped a few beats.

“Sorry, Jim. She’s working as a requisition officer with Sutherland and company while they get established at their Keep in Crestwood.” Bree responded, more gently than he’d expected. Everyone in Skyhold knew about the poem. Mostly because Herald Aizea Lavellan couldn’t stop talking about how beautiful it was and how she had ridiculously thought it was Cullen, yes the Commander of few words, who had penned it for her. This grated on Cullen, and worst of all Aizea was too busy saving the world with Yareth to really notice.

Jim returned to his tent, except his tent was gone. “Andraste’s tit’s!” Jim swore quietly. The sound of someone clearing their voice behind him startled Jim and he leaped a foot in the air before turning around.

“You were away for two and half months and already you sound like Rylen,” Commander Cullen chuckled.

Jim quickly saluted folding his arm across his chest. “Commander!”

“At ease, Messenger.”  The Commander’s voice was quiet, without the snap of anger he’d heard last.  “Come, you’ve been promoted. You’ve also been given quarters beside the other senior messengers. Leliana requires you closer because of your code breaking skills. You’ll also be receiving a raise. Follow me.” Cullen whipped around and began ascending the stairs to the fortress. After they snaked through through Skyhold they arrived at the row of small rooms above the garden. Cullen pushed open the door to a room that had previously been without a roof or furnishings to reveal humble but cozy quarters. Inside there was a desk, a chair, a bed - a real bed, a full mattress, and even with soft and warm blankets. He was sure his clothes were folded and in the tiny dresser.

“Sister Leliana requires her codebreakers to be well taken care of. What you do for this Inquisition is invaluable.” Cullen said calmly.

Jim was anything but calm. He was a riot inside. First hearing the worst news of his life, then the best? By the one person whom he had accidentally wronged the most? Impossible. “Are you sure you’ve got the right Jim, Ser?”

Cullen shook his head with another half-smile. “In the words of your cousin: Don’t cock it up.”

After the first night in a real bed in a room with heating for the first time since he had left Starkhaven Castle, Jim awoke with a cold.

“Figures.” He said to himself after sneezing five times in a row.

With flushed cheeks and a dripping nose he couldn’t seem to manage, no matter how many rags he stuffed into his sleeves, Jim head to his morning meeting with Sister Leliana. Before he crested the stairs he paused: he could hear a loud and impassioned conversation...and he recognized the voices.

“It’s safer for the Inquisition if both of our leaders who bear the mark  _ don’t  _ join our troops at Adamant. It would leave Skyhold completely vulnerable.  Also, only the Inquisitor has experience in a true battle between armies.”  Commander Rutherford folded his arms across his chest, his face as unwavering as his voice.

“But what if Corypheus’s there? What about his Archdemon? Won’t you need both of us?” Aizea Lavellan insisted. Since the poem debacle things had been sensitive between Aizea and Cullen. She strongly believed he overreacted, he didn’t agree.

“Look, Freckles, you have to deal with the nobles because I’ve no patience for them. I *will* toss one of them over the side of the mountain. Then Josephine will glare at both of us.” Yareth Adaar rested a large gray hand on Aizea’s shoulder.  “Besides, Cullen’s right.  Battlefields are different, complete chaos.”

Defeated, Aizea sighed. “I get it, asa’ma’lin.” She turned to Cullen, “Happy? You’re keeping me out of *danger* once again.”

Leliana sighed, annoyed with the debate. “Then, that settles it. Aizea will stay here and prepare for the ball at Halamshiral and Yareth proceeds with the army at Adamant. I’m afraid to say, Commander, I do believe Aizea will have never been in more danger in her life than she will be at Halamshiral.”

Without another word, Aizea and Yareth turned together and departed, leaving Cullen and Leliana to stand together in silence.

“I know she looks like a small fragile elf, but she’s stared down Corypheus and fought battle after battle to be here today.” Leliana said after a few minutes.  Cullen sighed.

Jim used the lull to make his entrance, which was anything but graceful, every step had its own accompaniment sneeze.

“Bless you, Jim.” Leliana lightly laughed.

“Thank you, Sister Leliana.”

Jim stared at his room - the night wasn’t the same, without Threnn complaining about Arl Eamon and the King of Ferelden.

Echos of footsteps

I’ve arrived too late to witness

Husks of seeds strewn across

Meadows and mountain tops

The only whispers of the seeds

That wait below

I could reach out to the vapor

But even your scent has left me

No words, no nothing -

Less than nothing

Somewhere you smile

And there eternal springtime shines

Blossoming, radiating, igniting

Yet here I sit, in a more comfortable room

A world away from your winter thawing heart

I must be mad to sit and wonder and hope

But I’d rather live a life

Of wondering, hoping, waiting

From this place winter isn’t eternal

It’s just a season that ends.


	8. Chapter 8

Threnn walked through Skyhold’s intimidating gateway and realized how strange it all felt.  Good, but - so much had changed.  A moment of angry frustration, that the Inquisition had moved on without her, but she muzzled that when she saw Captain Bree waiting at the courtyard.

“Sera.”

“Welcome home, Threnn.  Your tent is still there.  We’re working to get everyone into rooms, but it hasn’t happened yet.”  Bree’s voice was as frazzled as her expression.  “We have Orlesians, Fereldens, Wardens and two...no, *three* ambassadors from the Marches.  Which means we’re overtapped, again.  That means you have a choice.  Do you want to do logistics with a side helping of messenger, or messenger with a shit ton of logistics?”

“Choices?”  Threnn mimed shock.  She enjoyed working with Bree and her cheerful practicality.

She got a snort back.  “Messenger, then.  Good.  Grab the stack that needs to go to the Inquisitor.  She’s still got her suite the level below the Herald’s, but she also can be found in The Iron Bull’s room.”  A chuckle as Threnn’s face froze.  “That door is thin enough you can tell when ‘later’ is better.  You know the drill.  Just knock and open the door with your eyes closed.”

She ‘knew the drill’ because she’d suggested it.  Whatever, at least she was back.  The Inquisitor’s calm eyes and need for action was what she wanted right now.  She ignored when gold eyes changed to blue in her mind.  She didn’t need to think about *him.*

*’One drink with you is worth 1,000 barrels.’*

She shook her head, saluted and grabbed the messages.  Work.  That’s what she needed.  Why had she written that letter?  Fuck feelings.  Especially when he could hear his excited stammer, see it in the shaky handwriting - he must have sent it immediately, because it arrived the night before she started back.

Walking toward the Main Hall, she flipped through the messages.  Something from the Wardens, casualty list from Commander Cullen - with thanks it hadn’t been worse.  Adamant must have been as nightmarish as Ostagar.  She remembered the hordes, the sinking feeling as they kept coming, her sick relief that General Loghain had called retreat and saved the army, even if they’d lost the King.  Why didn’t people understand there hadn’t been another choice?  Bah.  People were stupid, and believed what they wanted to.  They wanted heroes and rivers of gold - reality was too harsh.  Anyway.  Other messages.  She swore as she bounced off someone’s chest.

“Can’t you look where you’re going?”  She’d just gotten started into her rant when she realized who it was.  The wavy brown hair, glacier-blue eyes, perfect doublet.

“My lady!  Light of my day, moon of my existence!  I’d heard you returned, but couldn’t believe without seeing for myself!  The fortress has been dreary and empty without you.”

Threnn looked around.  Flowers bloomed everywhere people weren’t walking, butterflies flitting from one to another.  “Uh-huh.”

Michel was undeterred.  “Only now, that your presence has brought back the sun, does springtime bloom.”

“Look, I’ve got work to do.  Later, yeah?”  She managed not to roll her eyes.  His accent couldn’t have been so...Orlesian before, could it?  She glanced around, and saw a familiar trip on the battlements.  Jim had never remembered the stones weren’t level there - some things never change.  A smile flirted with her mouth, and she was stunned.  “Gotta go!  Inquisitor’s waiting for these.”  She hurried off, not even noticing the flare of wounded pride in the Chevalier’s eyes.

Into the Hall, nod at the guards, walk briskly past the noble lice filling the place.  Yareth couldn’t stand them, either.  Smart woman, even if she was Qunari.  The throne was the same, blades coming out of the sides, but there were trees and twined things all over the curtains.  The Herald was Dalish, she supposed it made sense.  Good on her for not letting the goatfucking Orlesians beat her into their expectations.  She was sitting on the throne: Threnn slipped past and into the door to the private quarters of the Herald and Inquisitor, and stopped on the other side.

This was as private as it got.  The figure in her mind again...of course Jim couldn’t pay attention to where his feet were.  He was a damn good codebreaker, and never complained, though.  She beat the back of her head against the iron-hard oak door in time with her thoughts.  *Shit.  Just what I...oh, Andraste, you have a terrible sense of humor.* __ Those blue eyes - not glacier cold and majestic, but limpid, innocent...trusting.  The mottled white and red he’d gone when Cullen drug her name out of him, before he’d gone to the Approach, and she to Ferelden.  It wasn’t about embarrassing himself - shit, he had to be used to that by now.  The nights she missed him sitting beside her as she re-fought the Battle of Ostagar, as she bitched about the Bastard King.  She didn’t *want* things to ‘go back to how they’d been.’  But she didn’t know how to convince him otherwise, not after *telling* him she didn’t want him.

She reached for words.  “Well.  Shit.”  Fuck her and drop her in a well somewhere.  She had no idea how to be...she didn’t know, *attractive.*  Feminine.  Jim was anything but observant - hopefully she wouldn’t have to strip or anything.  That would be weird if he had moved on.  And embarrassing.  She had too much pride for that.  Shit.  Fuck. She didn’t even have anyone she could ask for tips!  Wait...did she?

**

“You needed something else?”  The Inquisitor looked up from the messages Threnn delivered and watched her fidget.

“Um.  Maybe.  But it’s...personal.”

The Qunari raised an eyebrow.  “I see.  I know you and that Chevalier...what’s his name…”

“No!”  She flushed.  This was worse than she thought.  Jim’s face, his willingness to just barrell through… “Not the Orlesian.  The…”  Shit.  “...the chase was better than the catch.”

Yareth gave an earthy chuckle and walked to the window, leaning against it.  Threnn started to relax - maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.  “Been there.”  Tentatively, Threnn moved to join her and leaned against the other side.  “A bit of advice: never fuck a poet.  You’ll never hear the end of it.”

Threnn’s head hit the windowsill.  This would be that bad.

A sudden flare of understanding.  Of course Yareth had heard - who hadn’t, by this point.  “Oh.”  She flushed.

She heard the door open.  Could it get worse?

A deep rumble.  “Kadan, you’ve worked enough.  Time to...oh.”  The Iron Bull stopped, and his voice shed that sexy growl.  “Girl talk?”

A sigh.  “If so, I’ve made a mess of it.”

Threnn felt a presence next to her, but refused to open her eyes, even as she heard...shit.  She *really* wasn’t going to open her eyes.

“You’re no mess, Kadan.”

She couldn’t take it anymore, and peeked.  The look in Yareth’s eyes as she smiled up at Bull - oh, she wanted that.  Not Bull because she wasn’t insane, but that feeling.

“So.  What’s the problem?  I’m assuming it’s got to do with sex.”

Threnn turned beet red.  “Bull!”  Yareth’s voice, caught between laughter and disapproval.  “Not everything is sex.”

“Bah.  The good stuff is.”  He looked at the messenger.  “Ginger, green eyes - you’re that Threnn, aren’t you?  The one the fuckup wrote a poem about.”

She slitted her eyes and glared up at him.  “His name is Jim, and he’s…”  Shit.  He *was* a fuckup.  She tried again.  “He’s one of the best codebreakers Nightingale’s seen.”

“Didn’t you fuck the Chevalier and send the other one away?”

“Bull.”

A deep sigh.  “I’m sleeping at Dorian’s tonight, aren’t I.”  He looked at both women, turned and left.

Threnn and Yareth looked at each other, traded sighs, then broke into giggles.  “He wilted!”  Threnn was amazed.

“They do that.”  She toyed with the dragon tooth around her neck.  “But you wanted to talk about your man?”

She bared her teeth.  “He’s not my man,” but fell back against the windowsill.  “That’s the problem.”  She sighed.  At this point, what did she have to lose?  “I’m coarse, and common, and a right bitch.  And that’s fine, but...but you’ve heard what he wrote, yeah?  Everyone has.  Maybe I want to be able to be that, too.”  Easier to say all this to the mountains she saw out the window.

The silence got to be too much.  Threnn pulled back to see Yareth watching her - still no amusement or boredom in her eyes.  “I know.  Lost cause.”

“You have lovely hair.  And freckles - Qunari don’t get them.”  Yareth’s voice was soft and sweet.  “Beyond that - Threnn, he wrote that about who he saw.  Just..be you.  Don’t let anyone make the rules for you - there’s always a way to change the game.”

She almost snapped back, almost pointed out that even General Loghain couldn’t change it enough.  But she looked up at those calm eyes.  A Qunari, and an apostate - and head of the most powerful military in the South.  Partnered with...a Dalish elf, another apostate.  And they’d saved an Empress and the Wardens.  Closed the big damn hole in the sky, and found happiness with...with men who loved them for who they were.  Damn.  Maybe she was right.


	9. Chapter 9

“Um… Excuse me, Lady Montilyet?” Jaimessen Autur Thominsen (more commonly known as Jim) lightly knocked on the open door to the ambassador’s office. 

Josephine looked up from her pile of papers to see the infamous messenger turned code breaker. A smile spread across her face as she welcomed Jim into her office with a wave of an arm. “What can I do you for you, Jim?”

Jim timidly entered the office, studying it as he approached Josephine at her desk.

“Jim, if I’m at liberty to say, I truly loved your poem. It was so romantic, I’m not proud to say I copied it and sent it to some friends of mine in Antiva. I credited you, of course, but I couldn’t not show my sister at least.” Josephine’s excitement was visible as she rose to her feet. “Tell me, Jim. What’s on your mind?”

It took a few moments of Jim staring at the gilded fireplace for Josephine’s words to hit him. When he realized what she said his skin became flushed and immediately folded his arms in embarrasment. “Oh, um… well… thank you, Lady Ambassador.”

Realizing that she had made Jim uncomfortable, Josephine approached him cautiously. “Did you need something?”

Jim snapped back to the task at hand and stood tall and almost proud. “Lady Montilyet, could I buy one of the reserve bottles of wine from the stores?” He paused. “I’ve saved for it, I know they’re for entertaining nobles, but I want to buy one.”

Josephine paused for a moment and then laughed as she walked behind her desk and grabbed a bottle from a drawer and brought it over to Jim handling it almost ceremonial in nature. “For you, no payment necessary. Consider it a deposit for reprinting your poem.”

Shocked and without words Jim stood holding the incredibly expensive bottle in hand. “Lady, I can pay…”

Josephine smirked at Jim and waved him away. “No, I won’t allow it. Now go enjoy the wine however you choose.”

As Jim walked down the steps from the main hall with the bottle in hand, unsure what to make of his exchange with the ambassador. 

Threnn has given him instructions to meet her on the battlements overlooking Skyhold Garden. Jim wore his best messenger garb, it only had three small tears which he hand mended for the occasion. He grabbed a small satchel and inside he placed the bottle of wine, and some stuffed pasties that Josephine had sent up. Josephine’s sudden interest in Jim’s private affairs distressed him, but he wasn’t going to “look a gift horse in the taint” as his cousin Rylen would say. 

Before ascending the last stairs before the apex of the battlements, Jim took a long deep inhale and said, “Come on, we can do this!” to bolster his confidence.

Upon reaching the battlements, what he expected was an empty walkway, what he discovered was a duo of young Mages groping each other with their tongues down each other’s throats. They were a standing mess of robes, hair and slurping sounds. 

Jim sighed as he stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do. He absently kicked a small pebble and it bounced off a wall and hit one of the Mage lovers in the back of the head. Jim followed the trajectory of the pebble with horror, but the couple was unfazed. Jim was certain that death by interrupting Mage love was how he was going to go, but nothing happened. 

A slight tap on Jim’s shoulder caused Jim to scream and throw his satchel in the air, he whipped around to see what had touched him. Threnn stood holding Jim’s satchel with a face wide grin. Her long wavy red hair was loose haloing her tall strong form in fire, she evoked memories of every painting he’d seen of Andraste.

“Looks like we’re not the only ones with the idea, that it’s a nice spot here.” Threnn tossed Jim the satchel and took a few steps toward the Mages.  “Oi!  Glitterdicks!  Find somewhere else.” 

The two mages ceased sucking mouth for a moment, looked at Threnn and Jim, flipped them off and resumed loudly kissing.

Threnn sucked her cheeks in for a moment as she puffed up her chest. Jim gently placed his hand on her arm and said, “Follow me. I have a better idea.” 

The show of confidence in Jim made Threnn feel light and full of butterflies. She followed Jim to the other end of the wall around Skyhold to the battlements above the stables. When they arrived he took the blanket out of the satchel and set it down on the cold stone and took out the wine bottle, two cups and stuffed pasties.

Threnn’s eyes lit up when she saw the pasties. “Jim! Those are my favorite! What did you have to do to get them!” Overwhelmed by emotions and the emptiness in her belly, she grabbed one and stuffed it into her face as she sat down on the blanket. 

Jim giggled at Threnn’s stuffed cheeks with tiny crumbs on her lips. An intelligible “What?” Threnn said in response.

Jim shook his head, smiling, “Nothing…” he poured the wine into the metal cups after corking the bottle.

Threnn and Jim sat in silence for a moments while they drank wine. “I heard you were adopted by a  momma Varghest in the Approach.” Threnn blurted out.

The color of Jim’s face turned a bright shade of red as his cheeks flushed. “Uh… yes. That certainly happened. Was it nice to be down in Ferelden again?” 

Threnn smiled nervously. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her coat. “It was good to be out of the bloody mountains, but…” she looked up at the purple cloudy dusk sky and sighed, “it was lonely.”

Jim nodded. “I loved seeing my cousin, but if I could never return to the desert again, that would be okay with me… I do have to say, Varghests make great company.” 

Threnn giggled and pushed Jim’s shoulder playfully. They sat and laughed together for a few moments.

“Get back here you damned elf! That’s my shoe! Give me my shoe back!” A young male human servant shouted. This grabbed Jim and Threnn’s attention so they stood up and looked down upon the lower courtyard. 

Below them they saw the scene unfold, two young male servants, the elven one was a good twenty feet from his companion victoriously holding a shoe. 

“No! This’s mine until you apologize!” The young elf held the shoe high up in the air. It was a simple shoe made of leather and cloth. 

“What do you think that’s about?” Jim turned to Threnn resting his elbows on the short wall encasing the interior of the battlements. 

“Are they now kissing?” Threnn blurted out making a face. 

“I never knew I could steal a shoe to get a kiss, sure makes poetry look like I’m trying too hard.” Jim said aloud in a moment of honest self reflection.

Threnn laughed. “Don’t get any ideas. This’s just a drink, remember?” Threnn cozied up beside Jim also resting her elbows and forearms on the wall. 

A loud crack of thunder brought a sudden downpour of cool rain. The messengers stood, suddenly drenched watching the servant couple begin to dance below.

“Andraste’s tits! How could they be dancing in this?” Threnn found herself giggling as she shivered. 

Jim quickly removed everything from the blanket and held it over Threnn and his heads making a quick fort so they could continue to watch the action below. “At least it’s not snowing!”

Threnn leaned into Jim for a moment and then poked him in the side playfully and began to run away. Jim kept holding the blanket over head and ran after her the blanket billowed like a sail as he ran.

When he finally reached her he dropped the blanket over her head and scooped her up inside of it! “I think I caught my first fish!”

Jim gently set Threnn down, she stood up clasping the blanket tightly under her chin. “I’m ready to go somewhere dry now.” She said visibly shivering. 

Jim, doing the best impression of a noble lord, offered his hand. “May I escort you home?”

Threnn replied in an overly articulated aristocratic accent, “Why, yes you may, good sir!” And placed her free hand in his.

They walked for about five steps in a regal manner before Threnn clasped her hand tightly around Jim’s and she pulled him with her as she ran down the steps, through the courtyard and down to the encampment laughing and singing “Ferelden Dogs” the whole way down. 

When they finally reached Threnn’s tent they stood awkwardly silent for a few moments forgetting they were still holding hands. 

“Thank you for spending time with me, and not hating me for humiliating you in front of the Commander.” Jim said soft and sheepish. 

Threnn looked at the ground for a moment then looked up into Jim’s deep blue eyes, noticing for the first time how they resemble the Hinterlands sky in summer. “Thanks for writing something that could humiliate me in front of the Commander.” Threnn smiled. 

“Uh… well… goodnight then.” Said Jim.

“Um… yeah. Goodnight.” Threnn replied.

Jim leaned in to give Threnn a kiss on the cheek but she turned her head and kissed Jim on the lips, a single soft kiss before dropping the blanket and diving into the tent.

Jim stood stunned for a few moments before picking up the blanket and ascending the stairs back to the main fortress. 

It wasn’t until Jim returned to his quarters that he realized his blanket was covered in mud and soaking wet. He draped it over a chair, pulled off his wet clothes and put on some dry ones grabbed a cloak and laid in bed. Sleep would definitely not come that night.


	10. Chapter 10

He’d stormed into the Rest and demanded something strong.  Cabot had given him the rawest mistake that had ever been bottled, because he was tired of the Chevali-shit.  Didn’t seem to make a difference - or an impression.  Cabot pursed his lips.  Time to tell one of the messengers, so it got to Bree that *something* was going to go down.  And it wasn’t going to be good.

Threnn hurried.  Bree had sounded frantic: apparently some Orlesian had his feelings hurt, and was looking for a fight.  Because of course they did, arrogant bastards.  Good thing she’d gotten that much figured out - another place General Loghain was right.  Never trust an Orlesian.  She heard shouting on the causeway between Commander Cullen’s office and the Main Hall, and ran for the stairs.

“Pathetic trash, worthless Marcher scum!  Honorless, daring to insult your betters!”

*What the hell?*  She recognized that voice...and face, as she turned the last corner and reached the causeway.  She’d never seen it that color, though.  *Michel, what in Andraste’s name…*

A wail back.  “I don’t understand!  You weren’t at the soiree last night, and Lady Montiliyet said the hives would go away soon.”

“Oh, fuck.”  *Jim.*  What could the chevalier possibly have against…

His eyes caught sight of her, frozen in shock.  “Of course you don’t understand.  Beetles are more capable of comprehension.  Perhaps that was my problem, assuming a Ferelden bitch was capable of recognizing the difference between something meant to be crushed underfoot and a real man.”

“Michel, that’s…”

“Heel, bitch.  I am not speaking to you.”  His voice snapped out, cold and cruel.  “Lick the feet of whatever worthless scum you’ve decided to imprint on.  I will have satisfaction.”

Threnn turned white, and watched Jim turn red.  “How...how dare you!  She’s no...you have no…”

“Oh?  Will you defend her honor, who couldn’t even manage to serve his betters?  You, who know nothing of battles, of what it takes to be a man and warrior?  Even here, you scurry underfoot!”

“I will!  I will show you, I’m not afraid!  I accept!”

The sinking feeling in her stomach hit rock bottom.  She’d *seen* Jim with a sword.  Once.  Before Bree ordered him away from them, saying she couldn’t be a party to murder and letting him touch a sword was just that.  *‘There’s always a way to change the game.’ _ *   _ The Inquisitor said it, so it must be true.  If she couldn’t stop the duel… *Jim’s innocent, trusting eyes… ‘green like lowland fields…’*  “If a duel is what you idiots need, then fine.  Prove your manhood like rutting stags.  But I am the one who was insulted.  I choose the weapons.”  She glared at both of them, ignoring the fear as she tried to keep ahead of the scene she was creating.  She *knew* Skyhold, knew Michel had picked this spot because it was visible, and sound carried.  Orlesian bastard.

He sneered.  “Very well, oh Ferelden whore.  Choose how I will spit the latest diseased beetle you spread your legs for.”

If Jim changed color any faster, he’d fall off the edge.  “How dare…”

“Herald’s Rest.  Sunset.”  She saw the Commander’s door standing open, and his cape flaring in the wind as even the Commander stared, aghast at what had happened.  “It will not be a duel to the death, but to humiliation.  *Words,* Orlesian.  Let’s see which of you can actually use them to prove your manhood and devotion.”

Michel nodded, then turned with a flare of his cape to stalk gracefully back into Skyhold’s Main Hall.  Jim looked at her, mouth opening and closing like a dying fish.  She was saved from having to deal with anything by the Commander’s voice.  “Threnn.  My office.”  She followed him in, hearing Jim’s stumbling feet as he careened down the stairs to the courtyard.

The Commander’s mailed hands caught her shoulders as the door closed and her knees buckled.  “Sit down.”  He kicked a bucket between her feet, then walked back to his desk while she heaved, giving her what privacy he could.

“Ser...I’m sorry, I shouldn’t…”

“Easy, soldier.”  His voice had just enough detachment for her to take a step back from what she’d just done.

What she’d just...oh, buggering Hessarian himself.  “Andraste’s tits.  What did I just do?”

An armored fist held out a bottle, and she drank, spitting the first mouthful into the bucket with her breakfast.  His voice was quiet.  “You just saved the life of one of Leliana’s finest.  I owe you my thanks.  Stay here until you’re steady, then get rid of the bucket.  I have another damned meeting to go to.”  The door closed behind him as she leaned against the wall, wondering what the hell had just happened to her life.  Is this what Jim felt like all the time?


	11. Chapter 11

“I can’t believe you’ve talked me into this, you’re worse than Hawke!” Varric harrumphed at Aizea Lavellan as they approached the Herald’s rest.  

“Come on, it’s a battle of words, not swords and you’re the expert on words in the castle.” Aizea patted Varric on the back as she walked past the Rest to the battlement stairs.

Varric shrugged and waved Aizea off before stepping into the tavern. He pushed open the door and was immediately bombarded by the cacophony of conversation and music composed of almost every resident of the fortress huddled into one place. He even saw the Commander, a tired and wary eye watching over the proceedings from where the Chargers had claimed their space.  A quick hand grabbed Varric and pulled him through the crowd. 

“Where ya been? They’re waiting!” Sera barked at Varric dragging him into the center of the building where there were a few tables pushed together to make a large platform. Jim stood at one end and Michel stood at the other. Both challengers looked uncomfortable and out of place. Michel tried to hide it behind a puffed chest and straight spine.

“Yeah, I know… I know” Varric said as he looked up into the endless rows of cheering people lining each floor. 

“Hi, Varric…” Jaimessen Autur Thominsen (more commonly known as Jim) said sheepishly.

“It’s about time you arrived, dwarf.” Michel spat his words. His narrowed eyes and beads of sweat on his brow were visible signs of his building anxiety.

Varric cleared his voice. “Okay, okay… okay!” The crowd continued to chatter for a moment before stopping. With Sera’s help Varric climbed onto the platform. 

“We’re gathered here today for, Michel the *former* Chevalier feels as if Jim, the Poet Messenger has wronged him! Michel seeks satisfaction, and the form of combat today shall be *words*!” Varric punched the air with an enthusiastic fist.

The entire tavern cheered, clapping their hands and stomping their feet.

“Not just words, this is a Battle of Questions. Five points and you win.” Varric pointed at the two challengers.

“Have we started?” Jim asked. 

“He would’ve said  we’ve begun.” Michel interjected.

Varric raised a hand on Jim’s side. “Point!”

Michel scowled, the game had just begun and already he was behind. How was this possible? He asked himself before saying, “Do you really think you’re a worthy opponent?”

“Do you believe that having good hair is all that’s required to gain a woman’s heart?” Jim took a step forward and asked confidently.

“Why didn’t you answer my question?” Michel paced, self consciously brushing his bands from his forehead.

“Why didn’t you ask a question worth answering?” Jim smirked.

“What can you even offer a fair mistress?” Michel’s frustration levels began to brew.

Jim began to laugh, “You mean what more could you offer than me?”

“That’s not what I-” Michel spoke without thinking.

“Two, O!” Varric announced.

  
Cullen snorted, along with the other Chargers.  He’d slipped a few silvers to Krem, with a whispered bet.

Michel growled. “Why won’t you just surrender?”

“Is that what you’re asking yourself?” Jim retorted.

“Do you use a pen instead of a sword because you’re feeble and decrepit?” Michel’s question was full of Orlesian venom.

“Does being Celene’s former plaything make you feel special?” Jim fired back a response, calm and cool.

“How can you be so calm?” Michel fumed.

“How are you not?” Jim smiled.

“Why are you so infuriating?” Michel shouted. He clenched his fists.

“Is my behavior upsetting you?” Jim asked raising an eyebrow.

“What do you think to gain from this charade?” Michel said through clenched teeth.

“What are you trying to accomplish tonight?” Jim asked.

“That’s the same question you filthy Marcher!” Michel blurted out.

Varric help up his hand on Michel’s side with three fingers. “Three, O! I’m sorry, but there’s no way you can recover…”

Michel fumed, “You’re a peasant! You’re beyond nothing, a pissant, without this Inquisition you’d be begging on the streets!”

Jim feeling confident after winning the last few previous rounds, “At least I still have my honor intact and haven’t ever had my title stripped.”

It felt like the air was sucked from the room when the crowd gasped, and Cullen’s eyes narrowed.   He quietly made sure his sword was loose, just in case.  Even if he detested Orlesians, he knew what Jim had just done.  Varric stepped between Jim and Michel. In a low voice Varric said to the contestants, “Easy, now. I think this match is over, Jim is the winner here.” 

Michel’s eyes narrowed and wrinkled his nose. His chest was tight as his anger permeated his being. “We shall see about that, dwarf.”

Varric looked up to the three floors of people looking down to the see the verdict and in his most presentational voice, “Jaimessen Autur Thominson is the victor! Behold your champion!”

**

Michel snarled.  No Marcher scum could beat a Chevalier.  He knew that - and while what Jim had said was true, the peasant had no place saying it.  Worse, he saw Threnn’s eyes shining, a faint smile flickering around her lips.  The same lips he’d seen against this...this...puffed-up servant.  That should have been his.  Before he realized, his sword was out, smoothly, easily pointing at this ‘Jim.’  “En garde, Marcher.  Let’s see how you handle a real duel.”

This, Cullen would not let stand.  He stood, effortlessly drawing attention as he stalked forward.  “Stand down, Chevalier.”  His voice was hard.  “The duel is done, you agreed to the terms beforehand.”

Michel snorted.  The blade, like oil, like light.  This was his place, his purpose.  “And what will you do?  You, the failure who can hardly keep from begging for what he abandoned?”  He turned back to Jim, only to have a heavy blade knock his aside.

Cullen had drawn and parried quicker than he’d imagined possible for someone not a Chevalier, not a duellist.  For a simple Templar and soldier.  “I’ll say again.   _ Stand down.”    _ He tossed a hand signal towards Threnn - and Bree, not far.   _ Get out.  _ He moved, to keep the Chevalier’s attention.

“How dare you?!?”

He raised an eyebrow, aware of the people surrounding them, of the fact he was wearing his damned uniform - so armor...but had no shield, no helm.  Damned Orlesians.  Though, he was Orlesian.  Perhaps, this would not have to end in blood.  “This is my fortress, Chevalier.  I dare easily, when it’s a simple discipline issue.  There will be no blood while I am on duty.”

“And you will stop me?  The finest swordsman in Orlais?”  His blade whipped around...but Cullen knew better than to care about that.  He ignored it.  Orlesian went for the glancing blows, for the ribs...his gauntlet came down against the sword with a ring.

“Yes, I will.”  This one hadn’t learned his hard lessons: that in battle, all that mattered was winning, not style.  Despite that, he was good.   _ Very  _ good.  It was all Cullen could do to keep up with the whirling blows...and that only because of long hours on the practice field.  Hours he should have slept, that the lyrium withdrawal and nightmares forced him to move instead.  He gritted his teeth, caught a toe around a suddenly-free chair, tossing it at the Chevalier.

Shouts, bets...of course, cheers, but at least the people here had seen live steel.  The crowd packed back, staying out of reach as the two men focused on each other.  Michel swept his free arm across the table, sending a candle and tankards toward Cullen...who ducked, swiped his cloak off and used it to foul the objects, letting them crash to one side.  Unfortunately, not quite quickly enough...he pulled the sword into a low block, but only caught most of the strike, deflecting it into his hip.  Below his armor, damn it.  He growled...but could use this.  He let the leg collapse slightly, his guard drop as he heard gasps around him.  Damp on his skin - he’d not have much longer.

Michel’s face lit into a savage grin as he kicked at the wounded Commander, driving him into a table, then came in for a final strike.  All caution, all sense, had left in the flurry of rage and battle-joy.  Something the tall man did not have.

_ Now.   _ Cullen forced aside the pain - what was it, compared to the fire of withdrawal - drove his leg down and his body back up to catch Michel’s thrust, riposte back.  A strike, blade to blade, then his fist into Michel’s gut, and face, grabbing the blade as his hand came back.

Michel cried out, holding his bleeding nose, and Cullen watched impassively.  “You are no longer welcome here.  Leave Skyhold.  Now.”  He flicked his eyes up.  “Fran, Thomas.”

The two saluted, ‘escorting’ Michel out none too gently.  Cullen sighed, and tossed the sword onto the bar.  “This should pay for the damages, and having to deal with him for so long, Cabot.”  He examined his - no nicks worth mentioning - and re-sheathed it with a smooth movement.  He’d have to find a healer soon.

Having been watching the entire spectacle from the top floor of the rest with an oversized cowl obscuring her face, Aizea took her first breath after holding it since Cullen stepped into the ring. It required all of her restraint to not insert herself into the duel between Cullen and Michel. 

As Michel was dragged from the Rest, Aizea climbed down using the support pillars from the third floor. She rushed to Cullen and wrapped her arms around him. 

Cullen winced from the pain from his wound, but bent his head down for a deep kiss despite it. 

Aizea whispered hot in his ear, “Let’s go back to your office so I can mend you,  _ properly” _ . 

A chuckle, for her ears only, as the side of his mouth rose.  “Of course, my lady.”  He tucked her under his arm on his wounded side, and for once let himself lean on her strength as they left the tavern.


	12. Chapter 12

Outside, Threnn pulled Jim with her, around the corner.  “This way!”

“But...but...wait!”  He planted his feet, and she found herself pulled back toward him, near the wall of the tavern.  “Threnn.”

She smiled at him, her green/gold eyes dancing with her freckles, fingers to her lips.  “You did it!  Jim, you won the duel.  Beat that Michel...oh, did you see his face?”  She giggled, and it spun into the sky, along with his heart.

The rush of victory and her happiness - and Jim decided to be brave.  Again.  “And wha...what do I get in return, my lady?”

She pressed against him, and he stumbled back into the wall.  Her lips met his just as he was about to say...and it was all out of his head.  For once, there were no words, just her in his arms, freckles dancing in the sunlight flowing down her hair.

“Threnn, would you like to join me upstairs for a drink?” Jim asked breathlessly. His mind was a million miles from the duel or the commotion inside the Herald’s Rest. There was only the sweet taste of Threnn’s lips and the endless green fields of her eyes.

“Of course.”  Though if she had her way, there wouldn’t be much drinking for a while.  This was an entirely new side to her Jim...almost confident, tender...and totally enthralling.

Jim grabbed her hand and held it tightly as he grinned. Together they ran across the courtyard to the giant stone steps to the walkway, and along to the row of doors. 

When they reached his room, he led the way...and Threnn deliberately pushed the door shut behind her.  He turned, startled at the sound, and she stepped into his arms again, pulling him down for another kiss.  “Drinks can wait for later, Jim?”

Jim leaned in and repeatedly kissed her neck as he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to his bed.


	13. The Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Jim took over Varric’s Sword’s and Shields he decides what to do with his new found literary success

 

Sleeping Past Morning

 

The soft rustle of bedsheets

Shifting bodies pull at woven fabric

Searching for integration

Praying for truth

Searching for truth

Creating new truth

The divine glow of hopes

Dewy like nook at the base of your neck

The purl of breath

The depth of breath

Breathing into breath

 

This sacred place

Where time is kept in heart beats

Space is measured in the friction of skin

Joy weighed in kisses

The only currency accepted

In this hallowed place

Is that of your company.

  


“You’re put that poem in the book?” Threnn exclaimed as she rolled onto her belly laying across the bed beside Jaimessen Autur Thominson (More commonly known as Jim), “No wonder it’s selling like crazy across Thedas! Every noblewoman in the land is blushing in more places than her cheeks!” Threnn’s red mane shrouded her shoulders as it was down and loose.

 

“Yeah, I hope you’re not mad. I’d been working on this story for months before Varric asked me to change the character’s names and details so it could be the next Sword and Shields. Can you believe it’s already sold more than the other two books combined? I didn’t know so many people read.” Jim rested his chin on the backs of his hands with his elbows sprawled wide kicking his feet as if he were swimming since they hung off the bed.

 

Jim raised himself enough he could tumble off the bed without issue and jumped to his feet. “Okay, are you ready?”

 

Threnn sat up in bed and quizzically tilted her head. “Ready for what?”

 

A grin that best belonged on the cat who caught the canary spread across Jim’s face. From behind his desk he pulled out a hat sized chest and threw open it’s lid. Inside it was filled with gold.

 

“We don’t have to be messengers or soldiers, requisition officers or anything else, ever again.”

 

“Jim, love, that’s your money,” Threnn said uneasily.  She loved the man, she did, but - she couldn’t take advantage of the fact she was his first lover.

 

She hastily continued, “Ok, fine.  I’ll take...ten percent for beating those publishers until they gave you a real contract.  Andraste’s flaming arse, they were just trying to take advantage of you. Money-grubbing leeches.  I can’t believe Varric let you negotiate without him.” _Damn and blast,_ she thought as she watched his face fall. _I’m making a mess of this, too._

 

 “Wait.”  She reached out.  “Please? I..this is…”  She sighed, and continued in a soft tone that would have shocked everyone except the Inquisitor.  

 

“I’m not in your bed for your money or your gift for words, Jaimessen.  They’re not you, your stupid bravery, your ability to always find a new...solution to problems,” she’d worked on that descriptor for a while, “your...Jim-ness.  That matters, and I don’t want anything else to get in the way.”

 

Jim patiently listened to Threnn. He gently took her hand within his and kissed her knuckles. “I want to share the gold with you because I want to share my life with you, that’s all I’ve wanted since we met.”

 

Threnn smiled unsure of what to do or say, no one had ever said _that_ to her before.

 

Jim released her hand and reached into his pocket before dropping to one knee. “Threnn, I hope to spend all of my days by your side, you’re my best friend and…”

 

His heart raced while tiny beads of sweat accumulated on his brow, “Threnn, will you marry me?”

 

Threnn stared at him.  At the face and body she’d grown to know so well, but the man inside could still shock her.  “What? Jim, do you know what you’re saying? Have you lost your mind?”

 

“No, I mean, yes, I mean…” Jim rose to his feet and sighed. “Threnn. I mean it. I’ve thought of nothing else. I want to be old with you, maybe even have a family, if you wanted one. I don’t need to see any more of the world to know that it’s you. It’s always has been, and always will be, you.”

 

He - had thought it through, or at least wasn’t feverish.  She couldn’t keep the tears from falling. “Me? The one Bree uses as a threat for the new recruits?  The one who was thrown out of her kingdom, because I couldn’t keep my bloody mouth shut?” She knew her face was getting red and blotchy, because of course it did.  But - Andraste’s blood, what was happening?

 

A wide grin spread across his face. “Yes, you. You who sat with me when I first came here when no one else would say hello. You, who spent endless nights just being my friend. You, who always helped me manage every mishap and catastrophic failure I’ve created.”

 

Her cheeks flushed darker, as she remembered those endless nights - him sitting next to her while she whinged on about battles over and done, and a hero long dead.

 

He took her hand again, more firmly this time. “Threnn, you’ve cleaned me up when I was a drunk mess, you stared down the Commander by my side. You’ve never abandoned me… and I promise to never abandon you. What do you say, be my wife?”

 

“I...I…” Crap, she was stuttering as badly as he ever had.  And that was enough to break out a watery giggle. “Oh, shit, Jim.  Get back in bed so I can answer you properly. Though if you put _this_ in your next book, I will throttle you, just you watch.”

 

**When the two finally made it to the Hanged Man for...well, it was lunch by then, Varric took one look and laughed.  “By damn, Jim, you did it!” And he led the tavern in a cheer for the startled couple.**

  



End file.
